


A Distant Sunrise

by EHyde



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Akayona Big Bang, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EHyde/pseuds/EHyde
Summary: Crown Prince Yak-shi was only three years old when King Hiryuu died, and barely remembers his father. Growing up in the shadow of a god, he struggles to make sense of his own place in the kingdom his father built. Ouryuu Zeno has always been reluctant to discuss Hiryuu and his legacy with Yak-shi, and so, when a visitor to the palace brings a chance to meet the other dragon warriors, Yak-shi decides to seek them out. But meeting them only raises more questions about Zeno—questions that Yak-shi must answer if Kouka is to move beyond Hiryuu’s memory and into the future.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for the Akayona Big Bang! A huge thank you to [luckyfilbert](luckyfilbert.tumblr.com) for editing, [busy-old-fool](busy-old-fool.tumblr.com) for illustrations, and to the organizers of the event!
> 
> Please check out busy-old-fool's illustration [here!](http://akayonabigbang.tumblr.com/post/153258609873/a-distant-sunrise-artist-busy-old-fool-author) (I definitely recommend looking at it [full-size](http://68.media.tumblr.com/79f6b95a9dbe3f599c4abf7989101138/tumblr_inline_ogk1tq0OUg1t5rpjs_1280.jpg)).

Prince Yak-shi stepped into the audience chamber, then sighed. He was late after all, and everyone but Priest Ouryuu was waiting for him. Yak-shi nodded awkwardly as everyone present—both his own advisers and the visiting delegation from the north, even his own mother—rose and bowed to him. At least this wasn’t the royal throne room. Yak-shi wouldn’t receive audiences there until he was officially crowned king, on his eighteenth birthday. Until then, this smaller room—still walled with rich wood paneling and hung with ornate tapestries, but low-ceilinged, with a long table in the center rather than a single throne at the head—was where Prince Yak-shi held his court.

He took his seat across from an old man he had never seen before. This must be Lord Raema, who had come all the way from the northernmost reaches of the kingdom. He had served Hiryuu long ago, but had not come to the capital in nearly fifteen years, and Yak-shi still wasn’t certain what brought him here today. That, actually, was what had delayed him—he’d been reading over Raema's letters one last time, trying to make sense of the situation in the northern province. Usually in cases like this, a lord would send an envoy. Raema’s lands were bordered by enemy territory, yes, but Kouka had not suffered a serious threat since shortly after King Hiryuu’s death, when Yak-shi was a small child. That was when the other dragon warriors had left the castle, leaving Ouryuu behind to act as regent. If a personal visit from Lord Raema meant that war was coming, it would be the first that Kouka faced without the protection of the Four Dragons. Yak-shi could only hope it was nothing so serious, and that speaking to the lord in person would make things clearer.

Yak-shi had just begun to make awkward pleasantries when, finally, Ouryuu arrived, his arms full of scrolls and maps. As he entered the room, the visiting lord rose from his seat. “My goodness!” he opened with a smile. “You must hear this all the time, but you’re the spitting image of your father!”

Ouryuu froze in his tracks. “P-pardon?”

“Surely you must be Lord Ouryuu’s son?” the lord continued. “I don’t know if he’d remember me—we only worked together for a few months, and it was over twenty years ago…”

“No, Lord Raema, I—” Ouryuu broke off. “That is, was it really so long ago?”

Lord Raema nodded. “Well before you were born, I daresay,” he added, smiling.

Yak-shi opened his mouth to speak, hoping to cut Raema off before he embarrassed himself any further. The lord’s eyesight must be going. Ouryuu did look young, but not _that_ young—he’d been an adult when Yak-shi was born, after all. But before Yak-shi could say anything, Ouryuu dropped his heap of documents onto the table with a disorganized clatter. “Here’s everything you need, so I’m going to go…take care of some…some things.” And then, smiling brightly—rather too brightly, Yak-shi thought—he turned and left the room.

Yak-shi glanced at his mother. “Ouryuu Zeno has other important matters to attend to this afternoon,” she said, in an obvious attempt to smooth things over. “Prince Yak-shi will hear your concerns.”

After a lingering glance at the doorway, Raema turned his wrinkled gaze to Yak-shi. “And you look so much like your mother,” he added. He’d hesitated—perhaps, after Ouryuu’s reaction, he’d wondered if it were better  to not bring up any other resemblances, and Yak-shi wished he hadn’t. It was true, he did resemble Queen Hanae, with her sleek black hair and her sharp dark brows, but all Yak-shi heard was _you don’t look a thing like Hiryuu._

Well. There was no red-haired god in Hiryuu Castle now. Prince Yak-shi would have to suffice. He took a deep breath and unrolled the first of the scrolls that Ouryuu had left behind.

* * *

“I think that went well!” Yak-shi walked by the queen’s side, accompanying her back to her chambers after the meeting ended. He was unable to keep a hint of excitement out of his voice. After that awkward start, he’d been worried, but— “Lord Raema was happy with our solution, right?” The queen, smiling, nodded. “I just—it just made sense.” The problem facing Lord Raema, unclear in his letters, had become obvious the moment Yak-shi looked at a map. Raema’s lands were not only distant, but cut off from the rest of the kingdom by nearly impassible terrain. “If the only reason he’s fighting with foreign lords is because he has to use their roads and travel through their land, it makes more sense to build a good road of our own.”

“It won’t be quite that simple,” said the queen, “but it’s a good start. Shall I arrange a meeting with Lord Ouryuu, to discuss what was decided?”

“Ah…” Yak-shi slowed his pace as he looked away. “He can read the records, can’t he?” Ouryuu always, _always_ managed to make Yak-shi feel like a child when they discussed matters of state. Yak-shi knew it wasn’t on purpose, but just—little things. Referring to Kouka as _your father’s kingdom_. Telling Yak-shi to trust in the gods, rather than explaining his actions. When Yak-shi was young, those words had been comforting, but it seemed that the older he grew, the more distant Ouryuu became. What had been a comfort from kind, funny Uncle Zeno became a dismissal when it came from the high priest. And today, when Yak-shi finally felt like he’d done something real for the future of his kingdom—and done it himself—he wanted to keep that.

“Very well.” The queen took Yak-shi’s hand. “Your father always hoped for a peaceful solution. He would be very happy.” 

But two weeks later, Lord Raema’s neighbors, soon to be denied their source of tariffs and tribute, demanded that Kouka give up Raema's territory, or they would take it by force. Yak-shi could find no way out. He could not abandon Lord Raema and his people, but—until the road was built—neither could he send troops to protect them. And if he gave up on his plans for that road, Raema himself might cut ties with Kouka, deciding it was simpler to ally with the tribes that bordered his lands. No compromise was to be found.

Head down, Yak-shi studiously avoided meeting anyone’s eyes as he left that meeting, and was caught by surprise when Ouryuu took his hand. “Don’t worry!” the priest reassured him. “Things will turn around.”

Yak-shi pulled his hand away. “I know.” Kouka had come through situations like this before, had survived threats and invasions. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the gods. He’d just hoped that, finally, he wouldn’t have to. “Priest, if the gods have a plan for this kingdom, I need to know what it is.”

Ouryuu’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he smiled—that kind, fatherly smile that Yak-shi knew all too well. “Isn’t it enough to know it’s protected?”

Yak-shi took a step back before the priest could do something really embarrassing like try to pat him on the head. “I’m not a child!” He took a deep breath. “Priest, I’m seventeen. I’ll be king next year. So no, it’s not enough.” He pushed past the priest without giving him a chance to respond—not that it made a difference, as Ouryuu seemed to be at a loss for words.

* * *

The problem in the north weighed on Yak-shi’s mind for three days until, finally, his insomnia drove him to the temple to seek out Ouryuu. He’d spent three near-sleepless nights wondering if his proposal to Lord Raema had been worthless from the start, worrying that things would never change, that he’d remain irrelevant in the eyes of the gods and all of Kouka forever. The temple, with its numerous depictions of those gods, was about last place Yak-shi wanted to be, but at night, the statues and carvings remained hidden in the darkness. Long shadows cast by dim lamps transformed the empty temple from the familiar decorated hall into a vast cavern. Some might find it ominous, even frightening, but Yak-shi found this cool emptiness more welcoming than the bright ceremonial chamber he knew. More honest. This might be a temple for all the dragon gods, but visitors, pilgrims—they all came here looking for Hiryuu. Yak-shi knew all too well that Hiryuu wasn’t there, and in this darkness, no one could pretend he was.

At such an hour, Ouryuu was not here either, of course. It was easy for Yak-shi to pretend he had the courage to demand answers, to ask for a real conversation, in the middle of the night when he knew his questions would go unheard.

“Oh! Your Majesty!”

Yak-shi spun around, nearly dropping his lamp in surprise. A figure approached him from the far end of the hall. Not Ouryuu—still too distant to make out their features, he could at least see black hair. “Ah, excuse me,” said Yak-shi. “I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.”

“You didn’t, I just—I just woke up,” said the figure, stepping closer. A girl, he saw now, who he’d never met before—and though Yak-shi knew he wouldn’t be able to recognize every single temple priest and acolyte, he would definitely have remembered her face. A jagged scar ran from her forehead all the way to her jaw, cutting across her eye. On a warrior, that scar would have been striking; on a girl younger than himself, Yak-shi found it horrifying.

She raised a hand to hide her face, and Yak-shi looked away, embarrassed. First trespassing, and now he’d been caught staring. But he couldn’t help but wonder what could have happened to her to leave such a mark.

“I’m sorry," he mumbled. "I’ll—I’ll leave now.”

“Huh? Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask the gods?”

Yak-shi turned back around. “What makes you—?” Stupid question. This was a temple, after all. “You're a priestess?” he asked, facing the girl again. No, she was too young for that, wasn’t she?

The girl nodded, then hastily corrected herself. “I mean—no, wait, that's wrong. Sorry, Your Majesty. I was all my village had, so I’m used to saying yes.” As she spoke, she pulled a few strands of hair loose from her long plait, letting them fall over the left side of her face. “The gods told me to come to the palace, but there are so many priests here that they said they couldn't take another student, so I'm just staying here till I'm ready to go back home.” She paused. “This _is_ the only palace temple, isn't it?”

Yak-shi nodded, then frowned. “It's not like Lord Ouryuu to turn someone away.” The high priest might be confusing and distant, but he was never unkind.

“Oh, it wasn’t—Lord Ouryuu’s away from the capital, they said, and I’ve only been here a few days.”

“Then stay until he returns, at least,” said Yak-shi. Away? Ouryuu must have left right after that disastrous meeting, if this girl had been here that long and hadn’t seen him. _He didn’t even tell me he was leaving._ It wasn’t unusual for Ouryuu to spend time away from the capital, but now, to leave without telling him on top of everything else— “He was the one I wanted to speak with, so I’ll let you rest.”

As he turned to leave, the girl reached out, her hand catching his sleeve, and Yak-shi froze, startled. He glanced back to see her one visible eye widen in shock at her own presumption. “Sorry, Your Majesty!”

“It’s fine,” said Yak-shi. “By the way, it’s not ‘Your Majesty’ yet.”

The girl looked down as she let go of the fabric. “Right. Um, goodnight,” she said, whatever else she had wanted to say now lost.

Goodnight, Yak-shi thought, was probably best. As he walked back towards the temple’s entrance, he felt keenly aware of just how big this hall was, and of how the priest-girl must still be watching him as he left.

As he stepped outside and into the night, the girl’s voice echoed after him. “The gods know who you are!”


	2. Vairi

“Down!”

“No, Ameya, not yet.” Vairi spoke softly, hoping her son would stay calm. If he started kicking, she’d _have_ to set him down, and things could only get worse from there. Where was that guard? He’d better come back soon.

She knew what the guard must think of her. A woman, alone, with a small child, looking for one specific soldier. Well, it was true. Vairi had told the guard her son’s father’s given name, rather than his title. She’d hoped that if that were less well known, she could avoid unwanted attention and recognition—the fewer people who knew why she was here, the better—but it looked like that plan might have been too successful. She couldn’t really blame him for taking his time, maybe hoping she’d leave on her own. But Vairi had been through far too much to let something as small as that discourage her.

Finally, she saw the young guard returning. He walked quickly, his reluctant pace from before transformed into something attentive, business-like. That could only be good.

“Come with me,” he said. “My captain wants to speak with you.”

Vairi nodded.

“Down?” Ameya asked again, and Vairi lifted the toddler off her hip, lowering him to the ground.

“Hold my hand and _walk,_ ” she said. “No running!”

“Right!” He must have sensed his mother’s nervousness, because no matter how tempting a playground the many-tiered palace steps might have been, he walked calmly by her side the whole way.

* * *

“Ma’am.” A nondescript soldier—middle-aged, middle height, close-cropped greying hair, certainly _not_ one of the legendary monsters who guarded Hiryuu’s castle—greeted her with a slight bow as the guard led Vairi into a small office. She let go of Ameya’s hand, giving him a little bit of freedom now that they finally had some privacy. “I’m Tuan, captain of the palace guard.” Vairi nodded in reply, but she didn’t want to give her name if she could avoid it. “You’re dismissed,” Captain Tuan said to the guard. “Tell no one of this.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard paused before leaving, however. “Sir, I don’t understand what ‘this’ is. Who’s Shuten?”

“Dismissed,” the captain repeated, and the guard backed out of the room without further protest. The captain turned back to Vairi. “He told me he thought you were from Xing. Is that true?” So she hadn’t managed to disguise her accent, after all. Vairi nodded. “You’ve made an effort to keep this secret so far. So I guess you realize what it would mean if the country found out that one of the four dragons had a bastard kid with a foreign woman. However, I can’t—”

“I didn’t come here to ask for money,” Vairi hastily assured him. “And honestly, I don’t give a damn about the four dragons’ reputation in their own country. I’ve kept this secret,” she said, “because when my own brother tried to take my son from me, I knew he’d never be safe outside of Kouka.”

A loud crash came from the back of the room, and Vairi winced. She should have known Ameya wouldn’t be able to resist the weapons rack on the back wall. He was fine, thank the heavens—sitting on the top shelf and grinning—and as the captain spun around to see what had happened, Vairi could tell he was finally beginning to put things together.

“And I’m looking for his father,” she continued, “because it won’t be long before he can jump higher than I can reach.”

“…good gods.” The captain stood aside, allowing Vairi to reach Ameya, taking him in her arms again. “He inherited—?”

* * *

Vairi had been shocked when her son was born not only with his father’s strange green hair, but with a leg covered in green scales as well. Shuten hadn’t said anything about _that_ —but why should he have? It was only one night, it was never meant to be anything more, and neither of them had been particularly forthcoming with the other. He’d had no reason to think he’d ever see her again. And Vairi, for her part, had assumed that at her age—well on the far side of thirty—she’d long since missed her chance to have children.

Her brother was there for her all the while she was pregnant. Promised to take care of her no matter what her reputation might do to his military career, promised, too, to hunt down “that no-good drifter” and force him to make an honest woman of her. Vairi laughed that off—Shuten had left her with only happiness, and what need did she have for a husband?

Then, when he’d come to see her newborn son— “Do you know what this means?” All she knew was that, despite his strangeness, her son was healthy and whole. “You said the bastard was from Kouka—that was one of Kouka’s monsters, the one with the dragon’s leg. I only ever saw him from a distance, years ago—hell, if I’d had a closer look, I’d probably be dead. I don’t blame you for being taken in, Sister—they’re demons.” He’d never spoken of blame before. “But now, Xing will have a chance to stand against them!”

It took Vairi a moment make sense of what he meant. “He won’t be a soldier,” she said, holding Ameya tight. The fear she felt every time her brother rode into battle—her son would have a better life than that.

“No, not a soldier, but a monster of our own!”

“He’s a _child_ ,” she protested, beginning to panic. “He’s not a weapon!” And he’d let it go, she thought, until Ameya began to walk, at only eight months, and her brother brought his commanding officer to see them. It was too much to expect an unmarried woman to raise such a willful child alone. His commander’s family had generously offered to take the boy in. Vairi wasn’t fooled. If Ameya was raised with that one future in mind—would he even know he was human? Or would he think of himself only as the monster they wanted him to be? Shuten might have been a monster, but Vairi had known him as a man.

She ran from the home she’d known since childhood, started over in a new city. But her brother was right about one thing. Every day, it seemed, the strength in Ameya’s leg grew. Soon she really wouldn’t be able to care for him, not unless she tied him down, and that would make her no better than those who wanted to take him. If she took him to his father, would he—? But that would mean abandoning her home entirely, seeking refuge in an enemy nation. It wouldn’t come to that, would it?

A year later, they found her. Her own brother, hunting her like a criminal. That was when she knew Xing could never be her home again.

* * *

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Captain Tuan’s words jolted Vairi back to the present. “Lord Ryokuryuu hasn’t been at the royal castle in nearly fifteen years.” He lied. He had to be lying. Her brother swore that monsters still fought Kouka’s wars. Vairi hadn’t even considered that coming to Hiryuu’s castle might not lead her to him.

But…Shuten had called himself a wanderer…

If he wasn’t here—if Kouka, too, had no dragon warriors—

“Please come with me, ma’am—”

Vairi flinched away from the man’s outstretched hand. “No! I—” So they were to be held prisoner, was that it? Ameya’s father might have—she’d hoped—raised him as a son, but to the rest of Kouka’s army he’d be nothing more than a future weapon, just as he would have been to Xing. She couldn’t let that happen. And here, in the very heart of what she should have considered more carefully as an enemy nation, she couldn’t get away, either. “—I want to see the king,” she said.

“It’s the regent you should really speak to.” Captain Tuan spoke without hesitation. “But since Lord Ouryuu is away, I’ll take you to the crown prince. As I was saying, please come with me. I’ll get someone to have a room prepared for you. You probably want to clean yourself up before a royal audience.”

So it was to be this game again. Warily, Vairi nodded. She had no reason to trust anyone here, but for now, she'd play along.


	3. Chapter Two

“Your Highness?” Yak-shi nodded distractedly at his attendant’s approach, not looking up from the book that lay open in front of him. Not that he was reading it, either—his mind kept going back to the girl in the temple, the young priestess, and her parting words to him. _I should have stayed to hear what she had to say._ He’d already decided to return again once night fell, but the day seemed like it would never end. He could go now, of course. But other priests would be there, and Yak-shi would have to explain why he wanted to speak with an inexperienced country girl and not to them, and…better to wait. The morning had kept him busy with lessons and training, but he had nothing scheduled this afternoon, and the book he’d pulled at random from his shelf did nothing to relieve his impatience. He pushed it aside and glanced up at the attendant. “Captain Tuan wishes to speak with you, Your Highness.”

“Show him in.” The servant stepped out of the library. The captain of the palace guard entered a moment later, and Yak-shi looked up and smiled. Aside from his duties as guard captain, Tuan also served as Yak-shi’s martial arts instructor, and though Yak-shi was far from his best student, Yak-shi never felt he had to second-guess himself around the captain. But today, his expression was serious. “What is it, Tuan?”

“Your Highness, a guest arrived at the castle seeking an audience with you,” the captain began.

This was a common occurrence, and hardly a matter for the captain of the guard. “What's special about him?” Yak-shi asked.

“Her,” Tuan corrected.

Could it be— “A village priestess?” Yak-shi asked. “Younger than me, but with a scar across her face?”

“...no?” said Tuan, obviously confused, and Yak-shi abruptly realized just how much he regretted not hearing the girl out last night. Hadn’t she said she was going to leave? What if by the time he got there she was already gone? “ A woman from Xing,” Tuan was saying, and Yak-shi forced his attention back to the captain. “I think you should see her, Your Highness, but…discreetly.”

“...right,” said Yak-shi.

“Pardon me, but is something wrong, Your Highness? You’re distracted. Normally, you’d be thrilled at the idea of a mysterious visitor come to meet with you in secret.”

Yak-shi sighed. It _should_ be exciting, but— “Whatever her business is, I’m sure Lord Ouryuu will handle it.” But Ouryuu wasn’t here. And while Yak-shi might still be unable to settle disputes between nations, surely one lone woman couldn’t have brought him more than he could handle? “But I’ll have a private dinner with her tonight, and see what I can do,” he said.

“Yes, Your Highness,” said Tuan. If he was confused at all by Yak-shi’s indecisiveness, he didn’t let it show.

Yak-shi stood up as soon as Captain Tuan left the library. If he wanted to address this mysterious visitor’s concerns properly—like a king ought to—then he owed her his full attention. He’d return to the temple and visit the priest-girl now.

* * *

On an ordinary afternoon, the temple was almost as different from the place of grand ceremony as the empty temple at night had been. Yak-shi hadn't realized how many common people from all across Kouka must make pilgrimages here—and this wasn’t even anywhere close to the time of the Fire Festival. None of these visitors, dressed in everything from the sleek robes of the north to the patchwork-edged cloths of the far south, recognized Yak-shi, but he wasn't able to enjoy this anonymity for long.

“Your Highness!” Yak-shi sighed as Ouryuu’s assistant, Soren, greeted him. Already he could hear the crowd: _that’s King Hiryuu's son? I thought he'd have red hair._ “It's unusual to see you here, Your Highness.” Yes, and this was why. Well, one of the reasons. “It's good for you to seek out the gods, but Lord Ouryuu—”

“I know Lord Ouryuu isn't here.” Yak-shi cut Soren off as he stepped further into the temple, past the crowd of pilgrims, Soren keeping pace at his side. “I'm looking for a  visiting priestess. We spoke last night, but I didn't hear everything she had to say—”

“Did that girl bother you, Your Highness?” Soren asked. “I knew I should have sent her away immediately—if she's caused you any distress…”

“What? No!” Yak-shi protested. “She didn't—” _The gods know who you are._ Those words were startling, to be sure, but not _distressing_. If anything, they were the opposite—an exciting challenge, a chance that maybe he _could_ make a difference on his own. “Where is she?”

Soren sighed. “Since she wouldn’t leave, I sent her to work in the temple gardens.”

“Thank you! Um…” Yak-shi had never actually been to the temple gardens before. Soren sighed again, and pointed him in the right direction.

When Yak-shi stepped out into the sunlight, he blinked in surprise. He’d expected something like the graceful flowering gardens of the palace. Instead, what he saw was almost like a farm. He couldn’t say for certain, but it looked like everything that grew here was edible, and planted in a layout that emphasized efficiency rather than elegance.

“Hello, Your Majesty!” The priest-girl stepped out from behind a pear tree, a basket in one hand. Rather than the robes of a priest, she wore clothing in the northeastern fashion: a dark dress that fit tightly around her chest and flared out below the waist. Her hair was in several braids—except for one section that hung over the side of her face—and tied back with a piece of bright green cloth.

“It’s still ‘Your Highness,’” Yak-shi repeated. She called him by a higher title, yet addressed him so casually…strange, but oddly refreshing.

The girl shrugged. “Well, no one else is king,” she said.

“...right.” Yak-shi walked over to where she stood, carefully making his way through the plots of various vegetables. “What can I call you?” He’d neglected even to ask her name.

“I’m Yane,” the girl said. “I’m glad you came back!”

“I didn't know this garden was here,” said Yak-shi, gazing around. “That is, I knew the temple _had_ gardens, but not—”

“They told me this was Lord Ouryuu’s idea, and that he even tends them himself sometimes. Everything that grows here is given to people in the town, or to pilgrims who’ve traveled far to come here.”

“I can't imagine Ouryuu…” No, but he could. Not the formal high priest, but the Zeno of his childhood…in fact, hadn't he once helped Zeno in a garden? He'd been very small, and his “help” was surely nothing more than playing in the dirt, but… The memory hit him so suddenly that he froze in surprise. Zeno had been his best friend, then.

“You don't often come to the temple,” said Yane. It wasn't a question.

“Only for official ceremonies,” Yak-shi admitted.

“Are you trying to hide?”

_Hide?_ “...are you asking that because I came here in the middle of the night?” Yane shrugged. “That’s not it,” said Yak-shi. “When I was six years old, I asked Ouryuu if he would help me talk to my father. It made sense at the time. Everyone said Father was a god, and Ouryuu was a priest, and priests talk to gods…” He hadn’t understood why asking that had upset Ouryuu so much, but that was the moment, wasn’t it? That was when things started to change between them. “Then, well…the only god I cared about wasn’t here. And everyone pretended that he was.”

“Hiryuu’s not here,” Yane agreed. “But you shouldn’t blame those who want to pay their respects.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” said Yak-shi, looking away. “I was only three when he died. It’s not like I actually knew him.” Why was he telling this to a girl he barely knew, anyway? “Did you have something you wanted to tell me last night?”

“Oh, nothing specific,” said Yane. “Your uncles are very talkative!”

“My—” Yak-shi blinked. “You can’t call the heavenly dragons my uncles!”

“Why not?” Yane asked. “Hiryuu became human, but he never stopped being their brother.”

Yak-shi shook his head. “It's too weird, ” he said. “Besides, ‘uncles’ makes it sound like they should care about me.”

“...what makes you think they don’t?”

“What else am I supposed to think, when they just—step in and fix everything so that nothing I try to do ever matters?”

Yane frowned. “They don’t—that’s weird.” Then she gasped and abruptly stumbled forward, falling towards Yak-shi. He reached forward to catch her, barely managing to keep his balance.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

Taking several deep breaths, she took his hand and lowered herself to the ground. Yak-shi hesitated, then sat down facing her. “I'm fine,” Yane said. “They had a lot to say.”

Yak-shi’s eyes widened. “The gods spoke to you just now?”

The girl nodded. “Your Majesty—” She grimaced, and Yak-shi took her hand again, too distracted to correct her this time. He’d never seen Ouryuu affected like this. What on earth had the gods said to her? Yane took another deep breath. “This is as much as I’m permitted to tell you: the gods have no plans for this kingdom. They are eager to see yours. They desire that Kouka prosper, but will not raise so much as one breath of wind to come to your aid, for if what Hiryuu built cannot stand on its own, then they have lost their brother for naught.” She looked up at him, and her confused, fearful expression stood out in sharp contrast to the calm heavy weight of her words. “That’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“You—you didn’t do anything wrong,” Yak-shi assured her. He was still trying to process her words. Why had Ouryuu told him nothing of this? “But it doesn’t make sense. The gods _have_ come to Kouka’s aid before; they’ve done so many times.”

“That’s, um…it’s because you were younger! Before you were king.”

And he still wasn’t king, so…it fit, but there was definitely something she wasn’t saying. “But—”

“I’m sorry! That’s really all I can say!”

Yak-shi sighed. “It’s all right.” It should be better than all right. Wasn’t it exactly what he wanted? The promise that he, Yak-shi, could make a difference? But—hearing it like this, from the gods themselves… “Well, it’s a little bit scary,” he admitted. “I _want_ to be a good king for Kouka.” Plans. The gods were eager to see his plans for the kingdom. Yak-shi didn’t _have_ plans, or if he did, they amounted to _don’t let it fall apart_ and— “I’ll be king in less than a year.” Wouldn’t the gods be angry, if they lost their brother for nothing? He opened his mouth to ask, but stopped himself. If the gods wouldn’t let Yane tell him any more, he wouldn’t demand answers where none could be given.

“If it helps, I think you can do it!” said Yane. And somehow, her young enthusiasm—though she barely knew him at all—took the edge off his panic.

“Yane,” he said. “Thank you. This—it’s not what I came to ask last night.” He still wanted to talk to Ouryuu, now even more than he had before. “But thank you very much. Is—is this why the gods told you to come to the palace?”

“...no.” Yane frowned. “I don’t know why they sent me here. But I need to stay, and the gods have no more words for you, so it’s not that.”

“I’ll make sure that Priest Soren lets you stay,” said Yak-shi. He laughed as he remembered the priest’s words when he’d first come to the temple today. “He asked me if last night you ‘caused me distress.’ I suppose this was what he meant.”

“No,” said Yane with a matter-of-fact smile. “He meant this.” She raised her hand, brushing her hair aside to give Yak-shi a clear view of her scar under the afternoon sunlight. Her expression was too bright, too forced, and Yak-shi, remembering his own reaction when he first saw her face, stopped himself from asking why such a thing would be distressing. Clearly it had been, perhaps too many times.

“If…if I can ask, how—?”

“How did it happen?” Yane let the loose section of her hair fall back in place. “If the gods have protected Kouka…that protection hasn’t always come in time.”

Yak-shi inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” said Yane. “You really were too young, then.”

“I’ll do better,” Yak-shi promised.

No cheerful words of encouragement this time. “Good,” was all Yane said in reply.

* * *

Had it not been for the priestess’s words not even an hour ago, Yak-shi might have thought his guests had been sent by the heavens. With her sturdy frame, her rough face, and her light brown hair cut short, Vairi was nothing like the image Yak-shi had conjured up when Tuan spoke of a mysterious foreign woman. Regardless, it was not her but her son who demanded Yak-shi’s attention. He reached out to touch the green scales on the child's foot. “They're real...” This tiny child had the power of the gods, just like the Four Dragons. Ameya watched his mother anxiously, drawing his leg back up under the fraying hem of his robe as soon as Yak-shi pulled his hand away. So young, and already accustomed to hiding. In Kouka, he might have been celebrated—and then faced exactly the same dangers he did in Xing. “But I can't believe Lord Ryokuryuu would have—”

Captain Tuan, standing on guard at the door behind behind Vairi, cleared his throat. “I trained under Lord Ryokuryuu and, trust me, he did. He might’ve had the power of a god, but he was definitely still a man.”

Yak-shi flushed red. This was _not_ the sort of story he was used to hearing about the Four Dragons. And—finally—Vairi cracked a smile. The woman had been stiff and uncomfortable ever since Yak-shi arrived, barely touching the food she'd been given, and speaking only enough to give the barest details of her story. Though there had been no open war between Kouka and Xing for longer than Yak-shi could remember, they were still enemies. But if Vairi herself was an enemy, she would not have brought this young dragon here.

“Miss Vairi,” he began. “Does anyone in Xing know you're here?”

She shook her head. “I told no one.”

And if the heavens had meant for this boy to one day serve Kouka, surely he would have been born _here_ , not in a foreign land. What had Ryokuryuu been _doing?_ “How many know of…of his nature?”

“My brother told his commander,” Vairi admitted. “I don't know who else they told. My midwife knew, of course, but she helped us escape. She'll keep it secret.”

Yak-shi had never fully understood why the dragon warriors had left, though Ouryuu had tried to explain. How could their presence alone have created conflict? But now, seeing the promise of so much power contained in something so helpless, he understood.

The boy reached for the platter of sweets on the table in front of him, left behind after their meal. “More?” he asked, completely oblivious to the danger he could bring to his mother, to Xing, to Kouka.

Yak-shi took his favorite variety of sweet from the tray. “Try this one, cousin,” he said, handing it to the boy. “They're the best!”

Ameya took it and stuffed it in his face without saying thank you. He was barely two years old—Yak-shi could forgive him for that. Yak-shi turned back to Vairi, prepared to give her bad news, and saw a puzzled look on her face. “... cousin?” she asked.

“We're not related,” said Yak-shi, “but I know that Father considered the four dragons as brothers to him, so—”

“You really mean it,” said Vairi. “You would treat us as family.” She smiled, like a weight had been lifted. Yak-shi winced. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to have her own brother turn against her. But family…for the good of Kouka, he couldn’t give her that.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would like to, but—they’ll come, won’t they? The moment they discover he’s here. It would mean war between Kouka and Xing, and for the sake of my people, I can’t allow that to happen. I can’t let you stay here.” It felt wrong the moment he said it. A coward’s decision. Ameya might not be destined to be _his_ dragon warrior, but he was the son of one of Kouka’s heroes, he was _family_ , and to turn him away—

Vairi laughed.

“Didn’t you hear me?” He didn’t want to say it again. “I said you can’t stay here!”

“Your Highness,” said Vairi. “I don’t _want_ to stay here. I was afraid you would keep us here by force! What I would like to do is to find Shuten. Your Highness, can you tell me where he is?”

“... you only came to the palace because you thought he'd be here.” He hadn't failed his cousin after all. _You were willing to,_ he reminded himself. _And you still might._ “I don't know where Lord Ryokuryuu is,” Yak-shi admitted, picking up his cup of tea and taking a sip. “If I did, I would gladly tell you.” How could he make this right? The gods were watching, and if this was a test, Yak-shi had surely failed already.

“Your Highness,” Captain Tuan spoke up. “Once Lord Ouryuu returns, he might be able to locate Lord Ryokuryuu. The four dragons could always find each other in battle.”

Of course he could. Again, where Yak-shi had failed, Ouryuu would step in and— _this isn't about me,_ Yak-shi scolded himself. _This is about doing everything I can for someone who depends on me._ And in this case, that meant admitting he didn't have the power to solve this  and that someone else did. Yak-shi nodded, but then—a memory from two weeks ago flashed in his mind. The way Ouryuu had reacted, almost in terror, when Lord Raema had assumed he was the son of the Ouryuu who served King Hiryuu. “Will it be all right?” Yak-shi asked. “Will Ouryuu be all right, meeting the son of his brother?”

Tuan frowned. “So you've noticed it, too…” Noticed what, he didn't say. “Well, Your Highness, if you want to do this yourself, there may be another way.”

“That’s not—” Yak-shi knew Ouryuu’s uneasiness was just an excuse. But at the same time, Ouryuu _wasn’t_ here, and the longer Vairi and Ameya remained at the castle, the greater the chance their secret would be discovered.

“I don’t really care who finds Shuten for me,” said Vairi. “If you think someone can, I’ll go to him.”

Yak-shi nodded at Tuan to continue. “Lord Hakuryuu courted one of your mother’s ladies-in-waiting,” the captain explained. “She left the palace not long after he did. If she went to him, the queen might know where to find them. Lord Hakuryuu could find Lord Ryokuryuu just as well as Lord Ouryuu could.” And Hakuryuu wouldn’t have other duties that their quest would interrupt, either. Yak-shi frowned. It would be a lot of extra trouble, with a greater chance of failure, but…

He set his teacup down with a sharp clink. “I’ll speak with Mother tonight. We’ll set out tomorrow morning.” He realized only after he spoke that from the start, he'd imagined himself accompanying Vairi and Ameya on their journey, even though he, too, had duties that should keep him here.

Vairi looked at him in surprise. “You plan to come with us?”

Well, why not? Helping Vairi was surely more important than anything else he could be doing. And for a chance to meet Hakuryuu and Ryokuryuu—Yak-shi had often wished that the dragons had remained at the castle even just a few years longer, so that he might have known them better. They’d been his father’s closest friends, after all.

“Your Highness, we came this far alone.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Yak-shi glanced up at Tuan. “Captain, you’ll accompany us?”

To his surprise, the captain didn’t object to Yak-shi going himself—in fact, he was smiling. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said. “Thank you.”

“For…?”

“I always hoped I’d see Kouka's dragons again. This isn't how I imagined it would happen, but it'll do.”


	4. Yane

Yane untied her new sash and carefully folded it, setting it, and then the rest of her new robes, in an orderly pile at her bedside. She'd brought her own robes from her village shrine, of course, but Priest Soren had given her these—of finer fabric and bright saffron dye—when he formally invited her to stay. Yane wasn't surprised that Soren had changed his mind, even without the king’s orders. The gods wanted her here; they'd find a way to let her stay. She'd smiled at his reasoning, though. _Somehow, you got the prince to come to the temple willingly._ Yane had explained that she wasn't sure it would happen again, but Soren didn't care. Yane was now an official acolyte of the Temple of the Dragon Gods. And though she shared a room with three other girls, she couldn't complain about the accommodations—this, she thought as she lay down to sleep, was by far the nicest, softest bed she’d ever had.

She woke screaming. Her face throbbed with old pain, someone was holding her hand and she pulled away, but no, there was no blood, the hand that held hers was attached to one of her roommates, not—

“Yane, are you all right?”

“Did the gods speak to you? I heard that the gods really speak to you!”

“Shhh, can’t you see she’s scared?”

Yane sat up in bed and took a deep breath. All three of her roommates were staring at her, but with concern in their eyes, not fear or ridicule. She smiled as even in the darkness, her terror quickly faded. The nightmare was nothing new, but friends who were there for her when she woke from it— “I’m fine,” she said. “Just a nightmare. It happens a lot, but I’m fine, really! I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Do you need anything?” asked Kwan, the girl who had held her hand. She had already stepped away from Yane’s bedside to light a candle. The eldest of the group, older than Yane, she seemed accustomed to taking charge. “A glass of water? Some tea? I can sleep by your side, if you want.”

“Was the nightmare about—?” The youngest girl, the one who had asked if the gods had spoken, raised a hand to her face.

“Shh, don’t be rude!” Her third roommate—Mina?—nudged the youngest aside and bent down, looking into Yane’s eyes as if to see if the fear had completely faded.

“I’ll be fine,” Yane repeated. “Thank you! Thanks so much!” Impulsively, she reached out to hug Mina. “I was scared when I had to come to the palace,” she said. “Really afraid, not just nightmare-scared, because—there are so many important people and I thought I’d be all alone—but you’re all so nice, and His Maj—I mean, Prince Yak-shi was so friendly—”

Mina giggled. “Even Priest Soren has a soft side,” she admitted. “And you haven't even met Lord Ouryuu yet!”

“Just come to us if you need anything,” said Kwan. “This is your home now.”

Yane wiped her eyes. She was so, so happy the gods had brought her here!

* * *

Usually after having _that_ nightmare, Yane couldn’t sleep—not even the incessant whispers of the heavens were enough to drive those images from her mind—and would spend the next day exhausted. This time, she returned to a dreamless, sound slumber, and by morning had nearly forgotten the dream entirely. Kwan showed her where to go to get breakfast, and they chatted as they ate. “It's worse when we're on duty for morning prayers,” Kwan said. “There's not as much time to relax then, so—” Yane’s teacup fell from her hand. “Yane? What's wrong?”

She stared across the hall. The person who’d just entered the room at Priest Soren’s side—it couldn’t be. But that yellow hair—

Kwan followed her gaze. “Oh, Lord Ouryuu came back!”

_That_ was not Ouryuu, that was—

Of course that was Ouryuu. The promise of protection Yak-shi spoke of, when Yane knew the gods had said no such thing—the legend that spoke of a body that could not be injured—there had even been golden scales. Of course _that_ had been a dragon.

She had no right to be afraid of him. He’d saved her life. But the images that filled her nightmares flashed through her waking mind as Soren pointed in her direction and Ouryuu began to approach her. Why was he coming here? She could get up, she could leave—no. Ouryuu might be the monster from her nightmares, but he wasn’t the one who had hurt her and killed her parents, and Yane wasn’t eight years old anymore. She didn’t need to run away. The gods had sent her here—for _him,_ she realized. The gods had sent her here for him.

“Don’t be nervous,” said Kwan. “Even though he’s the high priest, he’s really friendly.”

Yane took a deep breath, then another, as Ouryuu reached their table.

“Soren told me he accepted a new student,” Ouryuu said with a smile. “That's unusual, so I came to say hello.”

Shakily, Yane stood up and bowed to him. If he saw her scar, would he remember her? “We’ve met before,” she said, a tremor in her voice.

His eyes widened, panic flashed across his face for only an instant. “...oh,” he said. Then “Yane, isn't it? Will you come with me?” He remembered.

Yane nodded. She had to, didn't she?

* * *

Ouryuu led Yane to what must be his private office. A plain, mundane, _human_ room, it held no hint of his true nature or indeed, any personality at all. _The garden,_ she remembered. That was supposed to be his, too, and yet it didn’t feel like a lie. “I didn't come here looking for you,” Yane tried to explain. “I didn't know you were—”

“No one knows,” said Ouryuu. “Please, don't—please let it stay that way?”

Still trembling, Yane nodded. Would anyone even believe her? Would anyone believe that their cheerful high priest was really—

She remembered her hand in his as he promised to keep her safe. She remembered that same hand still gripping her tight after the blow that severed it, still pulling her back, remembered being crushed under his dismembered body and remembered how it squirmed, how it _sounded_ as it knit itself back together.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “I have nightmares about you, I—” He jerked back as if she had hit him. “I'm sorry,” Yane repeated.

Ouryuu gave her a sad smile. “I understand,” he said. “I have nightmares, too.”

She felt like she was going to throw up. “Did it hurt?” she heard herself ask. Why did she ask that? She didn’t want to know the answer—but she remembered his screams, too, and he confirmed what she already knew with a short nod. _He just got back,_ Yane realized. _He was out of the city, he was—_ No trace of blood stained his bright saffron robes, but she knew, knew that the time he’d saved what was left of her village was neither the first nor the last. “The gods didn’t ask you to do this.” Which meant that he, all on his own, chose it every time.

“... did they tell you that?”

Yane nodded. “I first heard them that night,” she said. “You can send me away, but—I think you should know that they sent me here.”

“You don’t want to be here.” His eyes were downcast, his voice tinged with resignation, and Yane realized that, still trembling, she’d backed all the way to the door.

But that wasn’t what she meant _—_ she _did_ want to be here. It would mean facing her nightmares again and again, but in only a few days this place had already begun to feel like home. Ouryuu couldn’t believe she’d want to be anywhere near him, and she _didn’t_ , but at the same time— “I like your garden,” she said.

“... what?”

“I like your garden,” she repeated. She didn’t know the Ouryuu who had planted that garden, so full of hope and light—but she knew he couldn’t be a monster, no matter what her nightmares told her. “And I want to be here. And since I never said it before…thank you.”


	5. Chapter Three

As the narrow road crested the top of a small hill, Vairi paused to look out over the farmlands below. “You know, I thought Kouka would be different.”

They had been traveling through the countryside, stopping in small towns, for a week already. For Yak-shi, who had spent most of his life in the capital city, the journey had been new and exciting. But Vairi just seemed tired. Kouka's roads were safe, its towns peaceful, and the only trouble they’d found had been caused by Ameya. Yak-shi now understood why Vairi wanted to find Ryokuryuu so badly. Little Ameya might not be able to _fly,_ and his off-balance half-running, half-leaping gait elicited more laughter than awe, but already he could outrun his mother. Often the only way to keep him close was to tie him to one of the adults with a long strip of cloth, but even then, if he timed his jumping correctly—which he hadn't yet discovered he could do on purpose—he could knock even Captain Tuan off his feet. It really was a miracle Vairi had kept his powers secret for so long.

“Different how?”

“Streets paved with gold, perhaps?” Vairi laughed. “Or a place of constant terror. A land ruled by a god and protected by dragons should be remarkable, at any rate.”

“Kouka was never ruled by a god,” Yak-shi tried to explain. “Father became human long before he gained the throne.”

“Hah!”

“... what?” He didn’t mind that she spoke so informally to him. While Yak-shi wasn't technically traveling incognito, he'd traded his silk robes for a plain linen tunic and wore his hair in a simple ponytail, and there was no room for formality on a trip like this.

“Do you think King Hiryuu would have conquered half of what he did, if no one knew he had been a god? Don't pretend it doesn't matter.” As much as Yak-shi _wanted_ to believe it didn’t matter, he knew she was right. “Still, I suppose that explains why this land is so much like home. The last village we passed through…it was so much like the place I grew up.”

“I took you for a city woman,” said Tuan.

“What, you can’t picture your legendary dragon lord visiting a backcountry village?”

“I really can’t.” Tuan smiled, but Vairi’s face turned serious again.

“Well, you're right. There was a drought, and my brother and I left so that our parents could support the younger children. For the longest time it was just us, looking out for each other…” She fell silent.

There had been a drought in Kouka, too, Yak-shi knew from his history. The gods had been mourning his father's death. Families in Kouka must have fallen apart, too. “I suppose who rules the land is irrelevant at that point,” Yak-shi said.

* * *

They reached the last marked location on their map late that afternoon, an old stone marker for a road that barely existed. “There's a trail here,” said Tuan. “We'll follow it till it gets dark.”

Vairi kept a tighter hold on Ameya as the trail twisted upwards along a steep mountainside, rocky cliffs and ridges above them on one side, and on the other, a long drop into a fog-filled abyss. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to camp in this wilderness. So far, they'd stayed at inns every night, but Yak-shi didn't like their chances of finding one out here. Aside from the trouble of keeping Ameya safe, he didn't think he'd be able to get any sleep at all in a place like this. However, they had barely walked another mile, and the sun still hung low in the sky, when a voice called out.

“Who goes there?”

The source of the voice was hidden, but Captain Tuan shouted out a reply. “His Highness, Prince Yak-shi,” he called out as he stepped forward in front of Vairi and Yak-shi. “Now show yourself!”

A figure stepped into view on the ridge overlooking the trail, crouching down to look at the travellers below. “R-really?” His bow hung useless at his side. “Is there a national emergency? Have you come to ask Lord Hakuryuu to fight?” The boy, perhaps two years younger than Yak-shi, couldn't hide his enthusiasm at such a prospect.

“No, but we do have business with Lord Hakuryuu—”

“Where is he? Where's the prince?” Another figure stepped forward out of the forest. A girl, maybe twelve years old at the most. Her hair was a brilliant silver.

“Inhae, get back!”

“No fair, I want to see!”

Yak-shi stepped forward. “I'm the prince,” he began.

“No way, you don't have red hair!” The familiar comment stung a little less this time—if this girl’s silver hair meant what Yak-shi thought it did, it was only natural for her to expect his to be red. Was she like Ameya? Yak-shi couldn't see her hand from this distance.

“Inhae, don't be rude.” The boy turned back to look down at the travelers. “Keep following the trail,” he said. “We'll take you to Lord Guen.”

* * *

Hakuryuu. The dragon who had been given claws that could tear through anything. Too young to remember the legendary monster, Yak-shi instead remembered being held in the arms—no, arm—of a giant, remembered Guen’s loud laughter and enthusiasm, his wide grin—and that was it, really. The old man who greeted Yak-shi’s party as the path finally came to a hillcrest overlooking a lush green valley, where a half-dozen or so thatched roofs stood out of the cool mist, was not the man he remembered—until he ran forward, wrapped both arms around Yak-shi, and suddenly he was.

“Dad!” Inhae protested. “That's the _prince,_ you can't just—”

“That's—a little—too tight…”

Guen stepped back. “You got so big! Hey, shouldn't you be king or something by now?”

“I'll be of age next year,” Yak-shi explained.

“I'll bet you can't wait.”

Yak-shi looked down, hoping it wasn't obvious how terrified he was at the thought of his approaching kingship. “Um, well…”

“You know,” Guen said with a fond smile, “you look so much like your mother.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“I guess you’ve probably heard it a lot,” Guen admitted. “Is Lady Hanae well?”

Yak-shi nodded. “I have a letter from her, for your lady wife.”

“And—” Guen hesitated, suddenly looking nervous. “Zeno?”

“Ouryuu is—” _Ouryuu is only a few years younger than you, isn’t he?_ was what he found himself wanting to say. Lord Raema’s mistake no longer seemed so ridiculous. _I remembered Guen and the others like they were when they left, but it’s been twelve years. Of course they grew older._ Wrinkles lined Guen's face, and, perhaps because of the color of his hair, he looked older than his fifty-something years. _But Ouryuu…_ “Ouryuu is…doing well,” he said.

“...yeah, I thought so.” Yak-shi wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It should have been good news, after all, but the look of regret that crossed Guen’s face said he’d confirmed a deep fear. _Has Ouryuu really not changed at all since that time?_ “Never mind that,” said Guen. “You didn’t come here just to bring news from the capital. If Shuten’s with you, it must be something important.” He glanced at the sky, as if expecting the green dragon to fall from the heavens at any moment.

“Actually, we haven't found Lord Ryokuryuu yet.” Yak-shi stepped aside, allowing Vairi, who had hung back, to step forward. Ameya, held in her arms, stared at the white dragon with wide eyes, for once holding perfectly still. “Lord Hakuryuu, this is Miss Vairi, and—”

Guen smiled. “And a little one!” Then he narrowed his eyes. “And you don't know where Shuten is.” Vairi took a step back at Guen’s visible displeasure—older though he might be, he was still a big man, and still had that dragon’s claw—but she wasn’t the one he was angry at. “Lady Vairi,” Guen said. “Please accept my deepest apologies on behalf of my no-good idiot brother. When I find him, I'll knock some sense into his head, you can count on it.”

Ameya suddenly began kicking, forcing Vairi to set him down or risk cracked ribs. “Ameya, stop!” He obeyed just for a moment, pausing to gaze up at Guen in wonder—only to bound past him and down the narrow path to the settlement. Vairi and Tuan took off after the boy. Yak-shi glanced at Guen.

“I suppose that stops being so cute after the first few times,” Guen admitted as they too followed the runaway dragon.

They found Ameya in the largest of the settlement’s houses. Several white-haired children stood staring at him, their work or play interrupted by the green-haired toddler’s intrusion, but the one who had Ameya’s attention was a tiny infant, asleep at his mother’s breast. One of the baby’s hands was bound in a sturdy leather mitt, tiny white scales peeking out underneath. “Mama!” Ameya exclaimed, looking back towards Vairi. “It’s my baby brother!”

* * *

The night Yak-shi’s group arrived, Guen's family wasn't able to offer them much hospitality beyond a place to sleep. They made up for it the next day. The morning and noon meals were feasts comparable to anything from the palace, and Yak-shi could only imagine what the evening meal would bring. He’d seen Inhae and her friends gathering wood for a bonfire—the evening feast would be outside, under the crisp autumn sky. Guen explained to Yak-shi that this place wasn't far from the small mountain village where he'd grown up. Originally he had planned to live alone in this hidden valley, making trips back into that village only as needed, but others had chosen to join him here—first the woman who was to become his wife, then family from long ago and friends from the capital who had come to seek him out. Seeing their little community—almost a village itself—made Yak-shi smile.

At first, Ameya refused to leave the infant Hakuryuu’s side, but it didn’t take him long to realize how boring a playmate such a young baby was, when he had all of the valley to run around in. Still, he kept coming back, poking and prodding the boy to the endless frustration of his mother. Once, he pulled off the dragon’s leather mitt to see the tiny dragon claws for himself, only for the baby to grab his hand tight and refuse to let go. That ended with tears on both sides, and a little bit of blood, too.

“I never realized the connection between the four dragons was so…” Yak-shi trailed off, unsure what word he was looking for. Guen’s older children had taken Ameya outside to distract him, and his wife had taken the baby to their bed, leaving Guen and Yak-shi sitting near the fireplace, alone in the great hall.

“I wonder if going our separate ways was a mistake, after all,” Guen said. “Of course, before this one was born I had no idea our powers would be passed on.”

“Did you—with my father—have that connection too?”

Guen sighed. “Yes,” he said. “That and more.”

Yak-shi stood and walked over to the window, watching the children play outside. “They’re not _my_ dragons,” he said. “I don’t think I take after my father—” He broke off. _In that regard_ , he meant to continue, but, unfinished, his statement was just as true.

“You trekked all the way out here just to take care of two people who came to you for help,” said Guen. “You take after him more than you might think.”

“No,” Yak-shi admitted. “I think—I think I was running away.” He found himself telling Guen about his conversation with Yane, pacing back and forth as he spoke. “I don’t think I _have_ a vision for the kingdom,” he admitted. “I want the people to be happy, and safe, but—”

“That’s as good a place to start as any,” said Guen. “That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”

“What people _want_ is for me to be Hiryuu.”

“They probably think that,” Guen admitted. “Glory in battle—it makes a good story, and hell, I miss it sometimes myself. But kids, they do something to you. No one wants their sons to see a battlefield.”

_Don’t let it fall apart._ Kouka’s peace was a fragile one, Yak-shi knew that. If it wasn’t, the dragons wouldn’t have to live in hiding, and Vairi wouldn’t have had to flee her home. What if he could change that? What if he could do more than just hold his father’s kingdom together piece by piece?

“You’ll be king,” Guen continued. “Fighting will be inevitable. But as long as you remember what you’re fighting for, you’ll do fine.”

“...thank you,” Yak-shi said.

“Hiryuu wouldn’t have wanted you to try to be him,” said Guen. “The day you were born, he had the same joy as any new parent, but I'll never forget what he said. He said that though he’d witnessed the gods create all of humankind, the birth of one new child was something far more remarkable. He was so thrilled to have helped bring someone new into the world. So _be_ someone new.”

“I…” Yak-shi turned away and returned to the window. Guen might have meant those words as comfort, but Yak-shi could’ve done without the reminder of his father’s godhood. Still...he’d wanted to know Hiryuu better, and that was who Hiryuu was. “I can't even—what am I going to do about Vairi? You have a newborn, you can't help her the way I thought you could, so I've failed even the people I ran away from my _real_ duties to help.”

“Now, hold on,” said Guen. “I never said I couldn't help. Lady Vairi can stay here as long as she wants, and in a few months, I'll be able to spare some time away.”

“I wish I could have done more for her myself.”

“You think being a good king means doing everything yourself?”

“But the priestess said—”

“She said the gods wouldn't help you. Not that you couldn't ask _anyone_ for help.”

As Yak-shi pondered this, Guen’s eldest daughter rushed into the hall. “Dad! Ameya got stuck in a tree, and I can't climb that high!”

Guen laughed. “That kid really is my brother’s son.” He stood up. “Show me where he is. I’ll see what I can do.” Inhae ran back out as quickly as she’d come in, with Guen trailing behind. After a moment, Yak-shi followed them outside and into the forest.

“Oh!” Inhae’s voice came from beyond a curve in the trail up ahead. “You're—”

Yak-shi rounded the bend behind Guen and saw Ameya in the arms of a tall man—his long graying hair still tinged with a hint of green.

“Lucky I got here when I did, Hakuryuu,” said Shuten. “You’d have snapped that branch in half as soon as you touched it.”

Another man stepped onto the path from behind a cluster of trees. “As if you can take any credit for coming here at all, when I had to drag you halfway across the country.” Seiryuu’s hair, too, was not as bright as it had once been, and a blindfold hid his eyes, but Yak-shi recognized him all the same.

Guen stood perfectly still. “Shuten,” he said. “Abi. Brothers…you came.”


	6. Abi

Five years ago, Abi watched his daughter grow within her mother’s womb, terrified. He could not be trusted with something so fragile, could never again allow himself to meet the helpless gaze of a child’s eyes, not after—

A blindfold could only shield so much, after all.

Then she was born, and her eyes—not helpless but _Seiryuu’s_ eyes, his own power given a clean start. Suddenly the fragile infant brought not fear but hope, and for the first time since leaving the palace, he was home.

He felt her connection just as he could feel his brothers, a tiny blue light as he reached out with his soul. When he first realized he could sense her this way, he was curious—but the white, green, and golden presences of his brothers still shone solitary. It was three more years before a tiny flash of green flared up—in almost the exact opposite direction of Shuten’s bright light. Heh. Of course. The wonder was that it hadn’t happened years ago. Well, Shuten would sense it eventually.

That year, Abi started going blind. Ridiculous to call it that—his vision still outmatched that of any human. A half-dozen fewer stars in the sky. That was all. But it continued to fade, while his daughter could see farther and farther. His daughter, who would only use those eyes to map out the beauty of the heavens, or study the intricate stitchwork that fascinated her so much. Never to kill. Abi didn’t regret giving up his power for such a future.

Another year passed, and still Shuten had not gone to his child. He was never in one place for long, and his travels seemed to take him everywhere, but that faint light remained separate. It was…it was really very far away. Shuten was _aware_ he had a child, was he not? Even he could not be _this_ oblivious.

Wouldn’t the power fade from Ryokuryuu’s leg, too? If Shuten hadn’t gone to his child by then—for the child of a dragon to grow up alone, with no knowledge of their heritage or family—Abi couldn’t let that happen. His brothers had come for him. He would make sure someone came for this unknown niece-or-nephew. He could do that much.

By happy coincidence—or perhaps more than that—Shuten was not far away when Abi reached this decision. The look on his face as Abi stepped into that dim, run-down inn—and really, what was Shuten doing in a place like this? He ought to have more self respect than that—was a sight to see. He stood up, jaw slack, dropping the glass in his hand. “Seiryuu,” he said. “Abi. What—?” Shuten, who had never been able to shut off that annoying voice of his, was at a loss for words.

Abi wouldn't cry. He wouldn't, and he thanked the gods Shuten couldn't see his eyes well up with tears behind his blindfold at the sight of his brother. Shuten leapt across the crowded room to where Abi stood as his drinking companions shouted in surprise—did they even know who he was?—and his arms were around Abi almost before he knew he was coming.

Shuten backed off almost immediately, his sharp exterior back as if it had always been there. “Let's get out of here,” he said, tossing a few coins towards the innkeeper. He took Abi by the hand and pulled him back outside, where he picked him up and leapt, landing some distance away on a small wooden bridge over a moonlit river.

“How romantic,” said Abi drily.

Shuten ignored that. “What are you doing here? I thought I'd never—” and this time Abi really couldn't keep the tears back. “Oh, for—if all you're going to do is blubber all over me, you shouldn't have come.”

Abi lifted his blindfold, used the fabric to dry his eyes. It was mostly soaked through already, and besides, it was getting dark. “You’re surprised to see me,” said Abi. “Didn't you realize I was nearby?”

“Haven't been paying attention,” said Shuten. “We said our goodbyes. No point reaching for what's not coming back.”

“Oh, Shuten.” Of course he would be that way. “Well, pay attention now.”

Shuten frowned—Abi was right there with him, after all—but Abi just waited, and finally Shuten closed his eyes, reaching out. He blinked his eyes back open. “What the hell? Why are there two Seiryuus?”

“That's my daughter,” said Abi. She was three years older than the younger Ryokuryuu; her light shone brighter. Abi waited.

“Oh,” said Shuten. “Oh, shit.”

* * *

Somehow, Abi wasn’t surprised when their search for Shuten’s child led them to Guen, or that when they arrived, they found Guen with an infant dragon heir of his own. It was as if the gods themselves wanted them to come together one last time. The people of Hakuryuu’s village had prepared a massive bonfire, with a feast set out all around it, and two more guests, especially dragons, were gladly welcomed.

“Again!”

“Hold on tight, kid!”

The little green dragon let out an excited squeal as Shuten reached down to take his hands and together, they leapt over the bonfire. They landed a little too close to Abi, and the boy stumbled forward. Fortunately, the plates of food had long since been cleared away. “Be careful!” Abi directed the warning more at Shuten than the boy.

“Your Uncle Abi doesn’t know how to have fun,” Shuten said. Abi rolled his eyes, forgetting momentarily that Shuten wouldn't be able to see the expression beneath his blindfold. “Come on,” he said, reaching down to take Abi’s hand. “For old times’ sake.”

“You already carried me half the way here,” Abi protested. Still, he smiled as Shuten lifted him up and jumped back across the flames. As Shuten set him back down and returned to his son’s side—which he’d barely left since they’d arrived—Abi glanced at the boy’s mother. She, so far, had kept her distance.

Abi walked over to the woman’s side, sitting down and pouring himself a fresh cup of wine. “Vairi, isn’t it?” he asked. “I know you sought out Shuten for the sake of your son, but will _you_ be all right, going with him?” He was the reason she’d lost her home and her family, after all.

Vairi smiled. “I never regretted my time with Shuten,” she said. “Besides, staying with him doesn't mean I have to _marry_ him.”

Abi blinked. “I suppose you two are a good match, after all,” he muttered.

“Such a prude, Abi, just like always,” Shuten teased, appearing beside them.

“It was kind of you to ask, Lord Seiryuu,” Vairi reassured him. “Thank you. The stories we tell in Xing of Kouka’s monsters are…not what I found here.”

“You couldn’t have objected too much to Kouka’s monsters before,” said Abi. He paused. “Or…this idiot didn’t even tell you who he was, did he?”

Vairi shook her head. “It wasn't exactly the main topic of conversation.”

“Goodness, that must have been a shock for you nine months later,” said Guen’s wife.

Vairi nodded. “If I’d known a little more, I might’ve realized sooner,” she said. “He kicked something terrible.” Guen’s wife winced in sympathy. “I doubt you have it much better now, with those claws,” Vairi said.

“I can manage,” said Guen’s wife. “Seiryuu, didn’t you say you have a son, too?”

“A daughter,” Abi corrected her. “That is, I have a son as well, but it’s my daughter who will be the next Seiryuu.”

“I suppose the dragon’s eyes don’t pose the same risk for accidental damage,” said Guen’s wife.

Abi looked down. He could imagine the looks of pity from Guen and Shuten if he said that his daughter, too, wore a blindfold. But she was a child, still prone to childish bursts of emotion. Too much was at stake. He said nothing.

“There were four of you, weren’t there?” Vairi asked. “What is the fourth dragon’s power?”

The three dragons fell silent.

“That kid never had any power to speak of,” said Shuten, as if saying it could make it so.

Both the prince and the soldier who had accompanied him had their eyes on the three dragons now.

“Zeno should be here,” said Guen. “It doesn’t feel right, to be together again without him.”

“Kid, do you keep him so busy at the palace that he couldn’t come with you?” Shuten asked.

“No, I—” Prince Yak-shi looked away. “I didn’t…I didn’t tell him we were coming. He never saw Ameya. I thought that Ouryuu would…that is, he—”

“He wouldn’t have come.”

“Abi,” Guen pleaded. “Don’t say that.”

Abi remembered Zeno wiping the tears from his eyes as they’d said farewell so many years ago. As much as he wished to share the happiness of this reunion…he’d known then that none of them would see Zeno again.

Guen and Shuten looked away. Maybe they knew it, too.

“I’m sorry,” said Vairi. “I shouldn’t have—”

“A body that can never be harmed,” Yak-shi’s guard spoke up. “That’s what the stories said. That’s Ouryuu’s power. My lords…anyone looking at Lord Ouryuu would say he was of an age with His Highness.”

“...yeah,” said Guen. “That’s Ouryuu’s power. And old age can cut as sharp as steel.”

* * *

The dragons were the last to leave the feast, sitting close to the bonfire long after night had fallen. Abi watched sparks fly up and disappear into the darkness, then pulled off his blindfold and watched them rise a little higher.

“Seiryuu,” said Guen. “It’s good to see your eyes again, even in this darkness.”

Shuten was silent. He’d seen Abi remove his blindfold at night before. Perhaps he suspected, perhaps not, but he’d said nothing.

“Yes, well,” said Abi. “It’s too dark to see, with that thing on.”

“... Abi?” Guen’s strong hand held his shoulder, gently, the way he’d only learned to do in their final years together.

“I can still see better than you,” said Abi. “I’m not blind. Not…not yet.” He paused. “One day, my daughter will have all of the dragon’s power. One day soon, perhaps. After that…”

Shuten took his other hand, held it tight.

“I thought you should know,” Abi said.

Together, the three dragons watched the fire fade away into the night.


	7. Chapter Four

Yak-shi didn’t know where Vairi and her son would go once they left with Shuten, or what kind of life they would lead. But they were both, by now, used to life on the road. Whether they settled down or not, he thought they’d find happiness together. He’d done what he could for them, and it was time for him and Tuan to return home.

Without the rambunctious Ameya, the journey back to the palace was quiet, uneventful but for one incident on the first day. “Highness, stay there. We’re being followed.” Captain Tuan only had to take a few steps back along the trail before a silver-haired head peeked out from the trees, and Tuan relaxed. “Miss Inhae, isn’t it? Come here. What are you doing?” They’d been on the road for over an hour already, and were a couple of miles from Hakuryuu’s settlement.

“You’re going to make me go back, aren’t you?” the girl asked.

“Does Lord Hakuryuu know you followed us?” Tuan asked.

“I—I want to come back to the capital with you!” Inhae spoke to Yak-shi, pleading. “It’s so _boring_ here. When you came, it was the first time in my whole _life_ I met anyone interesting!”

Yak-shi blinked. “Miss Inhae, there aren't any great heroes in the capital these days,” he said. “It’s not like in your father’s time.”

“But—I bet you see hundreds of different people every day! Lords and ladies and people from all over the world. Please? _I’m_ not a dragon, so I shouldn’t have to hide.”

Tuan sighed. “Miss Inhae, you need to go back to your father.”

“It’s not fair! Our parents both fought to make this kingdom, and I can’t be part of it? Your Highness, it’s all right if I’m just a servant in the palace, or anything, just let me come with you!”

“Inhae,” Yak-shi spoke firmly. “The daughter of Lord Hakuryuu should not be a servant. And I can’t let you run away from home.” Inhae hung her head. “When you’re of age—and _with_ your father’s permission—you’ll be welcome at the palace.”

_When you’re of age_ was an awfully long time for a twelve-year-old, Yak-shi remembered, even if it was frighteningly close for him. But Inhae sighed and nodded. “Promise?” she asked.

“Promise.”

* * *

Almost before he knew it, Yak-shi found himself standing on the heights overlooking Kuuto and the royal palace. Ouryuu greeted him as he arrived, and Yak-shi could barely conceal his shock. How had he not seen it before?

“Welcome home, Your Highness,” said the priest. “Your mother didn't say where you had gone…?”

_I visited your brothers, who are all old men with children of their own._ He couldn't say it. Hakuryuu, Ryokuryuu, and Seiryuu were all men in their fifties, and looked it. Ouryuu should be the same, but Tuan was right—he looked no older than Yak-shi himself. “I…I was visiting villages around the kingdom,” Yak-shi said. “Learning more about life outside the capital.” Tuan shot him a questioning glance, and Yak-shi could only hope the captain would follow his lead.

“Oh?”

Yak-shi nodded. It wasn’t what he had set out to do, but, he realized, it was true. “I can’t be a good king if I don’t understand my kingdom, right?”

Ouryuu smiled. “I hope you learned a lot!”

“I did learn a lot,” said Yak-shi. He wasn’t going to let Ouryuu’s familiar mode of address, treating him like someone years younger, throw him off. Yak-shi had an idea of the reason for that now, and, well…it wouldn’t ever change, would it? “Priest, can I meet with you this evening? I want to talk about what I saw. And about the future.”

Ouryuu raised his eyebrows. “Of course, Highness.”

“Your Highness, are you going to talk to Ouryuu about—?” The word _immortality_ hung unspoken between them as Tuan escorted Yak-shi back to his chamber, just as it had gone unsaid the whole journey back.

“No.” Yak-shi stopped walking and turned to face Tuan. “If… Whatever Ouryuu’s power is, he chose to keep it secret. Maybe it would have been better if I'd waited, if he'd gone with us to see Hakuryuu, too. But it's too late for that and—and I want to move forward.” Ouryuu hadn’t even told his brothers—what would he do if Yak-shi knew? “What I want to do, I can't do alone. Not yet. So I don't want to do anything that would push him away.” Tuan nodded. “Keep his secret, Tuan.”

* * *

“Your Majesty!”

Yak-shi stood in the temple once again, in front of one of the many dragon frescoes that adorned the walls. He was early—he'd found himself rushing through things, bathing, changing back into proper court clothing, eating as quickly as possible, even though there was no reason to hurry. But the quiet journey back had given him time to think, and now he wanted to put those thoughts in action.

He turned to the source of the voice. “Hello, Yane.” This time, the girl wore the robes of a temple acolyte. “So you get to stay!” Yane smiled. “Not a full priest, though?”

Yane shook her head. “There's lot more to being a priest than hearing the gods.”

“I guess I'd know that if I were here more often, huh?”

“M-hm. Star-reading’s so _boring,_ ” she said. “A lot of it is boring. But the gods make ways for everyone to serve them, not just the ones they speak to directly, so…”

“Well then, good luck!”

“Thanks!” Yane paused. “You came to see Lord Ouryuu, right?”

“Yeah, how—?”

“He told me,” said Yane with a laugh. “Nothing mysterious. I told him you might rather talk in the gardens than inside.”

“Oh, thanks!” Yak-shi gazed back up at the dragon on the wall. Coincidentally, it was the yellow dragon god depicted here, and he briefly wondered if Yane knew anything about Ouryuu’s power. But no, she hadn’t known him long enough to notice anything odd about his apparent age, and if the gods had told her anything, well, she’d already said it. The gods had no more words for him. He nodded in thanks one more time, then made his way through the temple to the gardens beyond.

He found Ouryuu sitting underneath the same pear tree where he’d found Yane. Two weeks and the ripened fruit was all gone, and amidst the long shadows cast by the the setting sun, Ouryuu’s bright hair and robes almost blended in with the colors of the autumn leaves. As Yak-shi approached, the priest stood up, brushing a few fallen leaves off of his robes. “I’d forgotten this place existed,” Yak-shi said. “But you brought me here when I was a child, didn’t you?” The priest nodded. “A long time ago.”

“Not that long,” said Ouryuu. Then, “Well, I suppose it was.”

“Back then, I…I asked you to do something you couldn’t do. I think I blamed you for that, when I’m sure it hurt you at least as much as it hurt me. I wanted to apologize for that.”

“Nah, I'm the one who should say sorry,” said Ouryuu. “At that time…I still wished you could be someone you’re not.”

“Not anymore?”

Ouryuu sighed. “I’ll always miss Hiryuu,” he said, his hand moving to touch the medallion he wore around his neck. “But you were never going to be him. I always knew that, and I should have paid more attention to who _you_ were.”

“... right.” Yak-shi turned and began to pace a little bit. “Well, the past isn’t really what I came here to talk about. It’s about something Yane told me.”

Ouryuu held the medallion tighter. “—oh?” Was Yak-shi imagining things, or did he suddenly seem nervous?

“She told me the gods wouldn’t protect Kouka anymore.”

“Ah, she said that?” No, he must have been imagining the nervousness. “Your Highness, maybe you misunderstood Miss Yane? You haven’t spent a lot of time with priests, up until now. But after all, the gods _are_ protecting the kingdom. Did you hear the news from the north?”

Yak-shi was sure he hadn’t misunderstood Yane. She’d been very clear. “No, since I got back I’ve only cleaned up and eaten,” he admitted.

“The army that was threatening Lord Raema’s lands turned back, so construction of the road you proposed can go ahead!”

“So, just like you said. Ouryuu, what—?”

“See?” Ouryuu smiled. “The gods are still protecting the kingdom, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Ah, right, well, I’m not king yet, so…” Eventually, Yak-shi was sure, Yane’s words would come true. But until then, rather than resent the gods’ aid...perhaps it was better to be grateful and look at it as an opportunity. “I'm glad the people are safe,” he said. “I know it was Lord Raema’s wish not to sever ties with Kouka, but for the people there…Ouryuu, I didn’t visit Raema’s land, but I saw other small villages while I was gone, and I think—I think for the people living in places like that, there’s no difference if it’s Kouka’s land, or Sen’s, or Xing’s.”

“Highness. What are you saying? You don’t—you _can’t_ think that it doesn’t matter!”

“No, that’s not what I—” He’d said it wrong. Yak-shi took a deep breath. “I want it to matter,” he said. Vairi had said that Kouka was hardly different than her home in Xing. She’d also said that a kingdom of the gods ought to be something greater. “When my father built this kingdom, he didn’t conquer land just to draw a line on a map, did he?”

Ouryuu inhaled sharply. “No, Highness.”

“So I want—for as long as the gods are still protecting that border, I want to focus on what’s inside. People come from all over Kouka to see the capital, but what if the whole kingdom was like that? I want there to _be_ a difference. I want a kingdom where no one has to go hungry even if there’s a famine, or—” He was getting ahead of himself. “I don’t know how to achieve that, on my own,” Yak-shi admitted. “Not yet. And I know it’s not the grand sort of plan for the kingdom that people expect of me.” Yak-shi could never be Hiryuu. Could never be a king of gods and dragon warriors. But—if he tried—he could be Vairi’s king, and Inhae’s, and Yane’s. “Will you help me?”

“Yes, Highness,” said Ouryuu. “And, Yak-shi—Hiryuu would have shared this goal.” He gazed towards the sky as the sun’s red disc vanished below the horizon, the sudden shadow casting his face into darkness. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The gods will do their part to see it through.”


	8. Chapter Five

**_Five Years Later_ **

“Ouryuu, there you are!” Yak-shi approached the priest on the steps outside the castle. He'd just spoken with a messenger from near the border, and the news was bad. Though Yak-shi had been king for four years, and Ouryuu no longer ruled as regent, Yak-shi still valued the priest's advice. Especially in situations where lives were at stake.

“What is it, Your Majesty?”

“Some aristocrats from the south are apparently directing their troops towards Kouka. Should I send the army to meet them in battle?” Though Kouka hadn't fought a war in nearly two decades, Yak-shi ensured that a proper army was maintained. Someday, the gods would withdraw their protection.

“... no.”

“Priest?”

“Don't worry,” Ouryuu said with a smile. “The heavens will protect us.”

“Truly?”

Ouryuu just nodded. Satisfied, Yak-shi took his leave. Ouryuu’s words were not unexpected, but they were a relief nevertheless. Yane’s prediction hadn’t yet come to pass,  but Yak-shi didn't doubt her words would come true eventually. Every time Kouka was threatened, he wondered if this was it. If this was the time he'd be called upon to protect Kouka himself. When he was younger, that wonder had been tinged with anticipation. Now, he found himself getting more and more anxious when a situation like this arose. He was busy with so many other projects throughout the kingdom—he didn’t have time for a war! And he was proud of the things he was building—he didn’t need to protect Kouka on the battlefield to know that he was making life better for his people. So if the gods could continue to protect Kouka, just a little bit longer…

Three days later, Yak-shi, exhausted from a week of meetings and audiences, finally readied himself for a full night of sleep. Representatives from the northwest had come to discuss the progress of the newly opened mines in that region, and by the time their business was concluded, Yak-shi didn’t think he could take in another word about various grades of metals. The mines would be good for the people of that region, though, and Yak-shi was happy. He’d sleep well tonight.

Or so he thought.  The sound of soft footsteps pulled him awake just as he was drifting off to sleep. Why hadn’t the guards—? He rose from his bed, fumbling in the darkness for a weapon. “Who goes there?” If attackers had come—

“Your Majesty!”

“Y-yane?”

He could only see the priestess's silhouette in the darkness. She took one more step, then rushed forward, almost knocking Yak-shi back onto his bed as she fell into his arms. “Oof—Priestess—” Her face was wet with tears. “Yane, you’re crying!” In the years since Yane had come to the capital, she'd quickly risen from acolyte to priest, and in the past year, she’d taken over many of the elderly Soren’s duties in assisting Ouryuu. Though she often seemed to have her head in the clouds—literally and figuratively, as she’d shot up like a weed to tower over both Ouryuu and Yak-shi—he had grown used to seeing her composed, formal. He’d never seen her so raw and emotional.

She drew back, sitting cross-legged on Yak-shi’s bed, and wiped the tears from her face with a sleeve. After a moment, Yak-shi slid open a window screen to let the moonlight into the room. He didn't want to call for a servant to light a lamp. “Yane,” he said, sitting back down facing the girl. “What's wrong?”

“H-he hurts so much!” She took a deep breath and then let it out in a shaky sob.

Yak-shi reached for her hand. “Who’s hurt?” he asked. “Yane?”

“I couldn't tell him to stop,” she continued. “I thought—it would be hypocritical, and—and I didn't want to be ungrateful.” She sniffed, then wiped her face with her sleeve again. “He saved my life, you know?”

Saved her life? She'd once said that the gods’ protection had come too late, but—

“But every time he comes back—he's _not_ hurt, but he _was,_ and there's so much blood, and—and I didn’t think it could get worse but this time he wouldn't even _talk_ to me, he was so upset, and—”

“Are…are you talking about Lord Ouryuu?” But—blood, she'd said—it didn't make sense. Yane didn't reply, just gripped his hand tighter. Yak-shi pulled the edge of a blanket over the priestess’s shoulders. “Yane, what's going on? Tell me.”

For a while she didn't speak, her breathing interrupted only by more wordless sobs. “I still don't know if I should,” she said at last. “He wouldn't want me to. And the gods won't tell me what to do…”

“You came here because you wanted to tell me _something,_ right?” He placed his other hand on her shoulder. “If it's about Ouryuu, I already know his secret. I know he doesn't age.”

“That's not…” She looked away and took a deep breath. “Your Majesty,” she said. “I—I wasn't mistaken, back then. The only aid the gods have ever given Kouka has been in the form of the Four Dragons.”

“What—what do you mean?” Three of the four dragons had long since left the service of the kingdom. Their heirs were children still. If she was implying that Ouryuu, alone, had protected Kouka against every threat across the past two decades? Impossible. But she only looked down, and didn't answer, and all Yak-shi could do was pull her closer and hold her tight. “Yane,” he said, when her breaths were even and her tears were dry. “Should I escort you back to the temple?” He was about to tell her that she couldn’t stay with him, that if anyone saw, it would create a scandal—because even if she was a priestess, she was also a young woman of twenty—but at her slight tremble as she shook her head, those words vanished. Being there for his friend was more important. “Or—you can stay here.” This time, she nodded.

When Yak-shi woke the next morning, Yane was already gone, and his back was stiff from sleeping on the floor. He needed to talk to Ouryuu. But—no. Yane had spoken to him in confidence. _He wouldn’t want me to tell you,_ she’d said. And she hadn’t fully explained—he didn’t even know what Ouryuu had supposedly done to ensure the gods’ protection.

Ouryuu’s power, Yak-shi had concluded, was that he didn’t grow old. Each year that passed since he’d reached that conclusion only made him more certain. It was a power that meant he could continue to guide the kingdom year after year, right? Not a power that could turn back armies. Yak-shi couldn’t even imagine Ouryuu with a sword.

He’d assumed Ouryuu would tell him about his power someday, and had chosen not to confront him. If he was keeping even more secrets…

After eating breakfast, he sent a servant to ask Ouryuu to meet with him, and when Ouryuu came, Yak-shi almost believed he’d been wrong about Ouryuu’s power all along. He looked older. No, not older, just more tired. No, it wasn’t even that—it was just that he wasn’t smiling. Yak-shi wasn’t used to Ouryuu without his cheerful expression. What could have possibly happened last night? But he offered the priest a cup of tea, and soon, his sunny disposition was back.

“What did you want to talk about, Your Majesty?” Ouryuu asked.

“It’s—I’m worried I’m doing something wrong.” His hands rested beneath the small table that divided them, hiding at least some of his own visible nervousness.

“Hm?”

“The attack in the south a few days ago. Kouka hasn’t taken any aggressive action, but it seems as if we’re being threatened more and more.”

The priest looked down at his empty teacup, which he still held in both hands. “Well,” Ouryuu said, “Kouka’s more prosperous than it was when you took the throne. It’s unfortunate, but it’s only natural for it to become a target.”

Yak-shi frowned. “But—the attackers issued no demands, made no attempt to negotiate.”

“Which is fine!” said Ouryuu. “You shouldn’t have to give anything up.”

“Well, like you said, Kouka _is_ more prosperous, so I’m sure we could have come to an agreement that was mutually beneficial—” Though Yane’s visit had prompted this discussion, these questions had actually been weighing on Yak-shi’s mind for a while now. Negotiating with other tribes and nations didn’t have to mean giving anything up; it could actually be a chance to gain quite a lot.

“Your Majesty, please!” Ouryuu’s expression never faltered, but his hands were shaking. “Is it so strange that the gods wish to protect their brother?” He froze. “Their brother’s kingdom?”

“Ouryuu, I…” Yak-shi shook his head. Ouryuu definitely wasn’t telling him something, _wouldn’t_ tell him something. He wanted to ask directly, but without breaking Yane’s confidence, he didn’t know how. “I suppose I’d only wished that we could be at peace with our neighbors, rather than merely safe from them.”

“It’s a wonderful dream, Your Majesty,” said Ouryuu.

When Ouryuu left the room, the teacup he’d been holding was cracked. _Ouryuu, what on earth have you been doing?_ The next time the border was threatened, Yak-shi vowed, he’d find out.

* * *

Kouka enjoyed three months of peace before another threat arose, and during that time, Yak-shi found himself even busier than before. If neighboring countries were reluctant to reach out to him, well, that didn’t stop him from making the first move. But it was slow going. He had _almost_ reached a successful trade agreement with a group of tribes to the northeast when a dissenting party among them decided that there could be no peaceful accord. Much of Kouka’s land had once been theirs, in the time before King Hiryuu’s reign, and they refused to give anything up for access to its bounty.

“You did your best!” Ouryuu’s reassuring smile took Yak-shi back to the years before he was king, when it seemed like nothing he did could make a difference.

“What are you going to do now?” He should have asked directly years ago, and he didn’t expect to receive an answer now.

“We don’t have to do anything, Your Majesty. The gods will protect us, as they always have.”

“... right.” _I know you’re doing something. Tell me what it is!_ If he ordered Ouryuu to say it, ordered him as king, would it make a difference? Or would it simply ruin the friendship they’d rebuilt over the past five years? “Thank you for your support in times like this, Priest,” said Yak-shi. He meant it. He couldn’t have accomplished what he had without the help of…of whatever was being done to protect the kingdom. He only wished Ouryuu trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

“...oh?” Ouryuu gave him a slight smile, then bowed and took his leave.

Yak-shi  followed him. Followed him all the way to the royal stables, until his mind caught up with him and he realized that whatever was going on, riding alone into a potential war zone was a bad idea. He doubled back, racing to the guardhouse. If people saw him acting strangely, so be it. “Captain Tuan.”

“Your Majesty?” Tuan rose to attention.

“Come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tuan had kept secrets for him before. Yak-shi trusted him with this—whatever this was—too. “Ouryuu is leaving the capital,” said Yak-shi, when they reached the stables, away from any potential listeners. “I want to follow him.” Tuan nodded, unquestioning. “The north road,” said Yak-shi when they came to the city gates.

“The invasion?” Tuan asked, and Yak-shi nodded.

Tuan led them—he knew how to keep their pace on the road so Ouryuu wouldn’t realize he was being followed, occasionally signalling Yak-shi to pause and wait a moment. “The army has never mobilized against an invasion,” he spoke up at one of these pauses. “We’ve been told the gods favored our kingdom, but—Your Majesty, is Lord Ouryuu conducting secret deals with our enemies?”

“I don’t—I don’t think it’s that,” said Yak-shi. It couldn’t be something so mundane, right? That wasn’t the sort of thing that would move Yane to tears. “But whatever he’s doing, I need to know. He’s been doing it for nearly twenty years.”

“And could do it for a hundred more,” said Tuan.

Aside from a few pauses like this, they rode fast, taking no breaks. Yak-shi grew hungry and sore, but if Ouryuu didn’t stop, neither would he. Finally, Tuan signalled to stop, dismount, and proceed on foot. “We’re near the pass through the mountains,” said Tuan. “Any invading army will have to come through there.” A few minutes of walking took them to the edge of a cliff, where a lone horse stood waiting. Yak-shi looked over the edge. A narrow footpath led down the steep rocky wall—and alone, in the pass below, stood Ouryuu.

“What is he—?” He could hear the echoes of the invaders’ march, see the dust of their footsteps. If Ouryuu was here to negotiate, why was he drawing his sword? And as Yak-shi began to be able to make out individual figures amongst the army, Ouryuu raised his sword and rushed towards them. “Ouryuu!” Too far away for his voice to carry, Yak-shi saw archers raise their bows. Loose their arrows. Ouryuu fell. “Zeno!”

He felt Tuan’s grip on his wrist before he realized he’d moved. “No, Your Majesty!” said Tuan, pulling him back from the path down the cliffside. “You’ll be killed too.”  How could it end like this? Ouryuu’s body lay still, small and alone, as the raiders rode forward.

Then Ouryuu stood up. Pulled out an arrow. Then another, and another—seven in total. Raised his blade again. The vanguard of the army was upon him and Yak-shi saw the flash of steel as a sword fell on Ouryuu’s shoulder. Saw him fall again, saw the spray of blood this time. Ouryuu staggered to his feet, then stood firm, only for more blows to come. Slicing, piercing, tearing him apart. Yak-shi might have been screaming. Ouryuu certainly was. Then—something changed. Ouryuu’s body beneath his torn, bloody tunic glimmered as golden as his hair. More blows fell on him but he kept moving forward, unflinching. A flash of bright movement and now it was the invaders who fell, one by one and then what seemed like dozens at a time, their swords and spears useless against the golden dragon in their midst.

“—Your Majesty!”

Had Tuan been calling to him this whole time? Yak-shi shot a glance at the older man. His face was pale as he, too, watched the gentle priest take on an entire army by himself. “Your Majesty, we’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”

“I have to go to him, I have to make sure he’s all right—” Even as Yak-shi spoke he was aware of how foolish those words were. Ouryuu was driving the invading army back, those left alive were beginning to flee, and he was—he was clearly unhurt, but Yak-shi had seen him die, seen him cut to pieces—Yak-shi felt sick. He had never seen a battlefield at all.

“Let’s go, Your Majesty,” Tuan repeated.

Yak-shi allowed himself to be pulled back from the cliff’s edge, his breath coming in heaving gasps. He understood Yane’s tears now. “...twenty years,” he said as his feet followed Tuan back to the main road. “Twenty years of this.”

“A body that can’t be harmed,” said Tuan, his voice trembling. “Ouryuu never—he never fought alongside the others. I thought—” He shook his head.

“Kouka’s army,” said Yak-shi. “Kouka _has_ an army. Couldn't they have—?”

“... easily, Your Majesty,” said Tuan. Then, “will you confront him?”

“I…” Twenty years, Ouryuu had protected Kouka this way. How much longer would it continue? But Yak-shi didn’t have to ask that question. Ouryuu could keep Kouka safe forever. “No,” said Yak-shi. “Not yet. Not until I can promise he never has to do that again.”


	9. Zeno

_“Long, long ago, when the bright sun was devoured, and the world was shrouded in darkness…”_

The clear notes of Yane’s voice carried the hymn over the noise of the festival all the way to where Zeno waited, far away from the crowd. She led the Fire Festival this year, as Soren had in years past. It was the one duty of the priesthood that Zeno couldn’t face. Hiryuu had been human, but the people liked to remember that he had been a god, and Zeno…Zeno couldn't bear to pretend that his king could still hear him.

As the moon rose higher in the sky and the sounds of ceremony gave way to celebration, Yane joined him in the gardens. “I brought us some festival cakes, Lord Priest,” she said with a smile. “And some wine.”

“At your age?”

“Ouryuu, I'm twenty-two now.”

Right. She was growing up, too. The young priestess uncorked the bottle and sat down, passing it to Zeno. He took a swallow and passed it back. The wine might not affect him, but sharing it was nice. “You did a good job!” he said.

“You don’t have to pretend to be happy tonight,” she said. “It’s all right.”

Zeno closed his eyes, letting the tears that had been threatening to fill his eyes all night finally flow. He didn’t know what he’d do without someone to confide in. Didn’t know what he’d do when Yane was gone. The priestess reached for his hand, and Zeno froze. Stared at her. Yane never took his hand—Zeno knew it brought back memories that had shaken her entire life, though they were only too commonplace for him. “You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”

“...what?” Zeno hadn’t said anything of the sort. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that.”

_When the prince becomes an adult, I’ll take my leave,_ he’d said.

_When that time comes, come to my place. I'll be waiting for you no matter how many years pass._

His brothers had died two years ago. Zeno had nowhere to go. “Prince Yak-shi still needs me,” he said.

“ _King_ Yak-shi has ruled for six years now.”

“He's not not ready—”

“He's not _Hiryuu._ And he never will be. But it's been two years since you came back with your clothes torn up and bloody.”

It was true. The boy’s efforts to pacify Kouka’s borders were commendable. But two years wasn’t a very long time…and if Zeno wasn’t needed to protect the kingdom, then why was he still here at all? He looked up at the silent heavens. “If the gods want me gone, they should just let me die.”

Her grip on his hand tightened. “Ouryuu, please!” Tears filled her eyes, too. It was so sweet, the way she worried about him, even though she knew he’d always be fine. “The gods didn’t say anything, Ouryuu,” she said. “I just…I had a feeling.” She, too, looked up at the sky. “They’re quiet tonight,” she said. “I’m sorry. They still haven’t answered your question.”

* * *

Yane’s words weighed on Zeno. Leave? How could he leave? True, it was getting harder and harder to avoid awkward questions about his age, and soon, he would have to—what? Tell the truth? The people could never be comfortable with something like that.

Besides, the kingdom still needed his protection. He was the only dragon left. The only one who could keep the people safe without sacrificing needless lives. Two years of peace would not go on forever.

Indeed, it was less than a week after the Fire Festival when one of Yak-shi’s advisors told Zeno that an army from Xing had entered Kouka. He didn't really pay attention to the details. Xing probably meant a small army, no different than the other small fires he'd been putting out. “...two days ago, when the messenger arrived,” the advisor was saying.

_Wait, what?_ “Two days? Why wasn't I told?”

“His Majesty didn't tell you?”

Zeno hadn't seen Yak-shi at all in the past two days. “Where…where is His Majesty?” he asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

“He rode to meet them, Priest.”

“With the army?” He couldn't have mobilized the army in such a short time, without Zeno knowing.

“No, he just took a small escort.”

_What are you doing, Yak-shi?_ He hastily thanked the advisor and was on his way, riding out of the city. Every other time he'd ridden out this way, he'd known what awaited him at the end. This time he didn't, and it frightened him far more. _If you get hurt—_

But no army awaited him. Only the king and his guards, returning home.

“Your Majesty! Yak-shi!” Zeno slowed as he approached the group, relief rushing over him. “You're safe!” Only then did he notice that the king wasn't at all surprised to see him…and that at the center of their column rode a Xingese general with a much smaller guard of his own.

Yak-shi’s guards all stared at Zeno with wary expressions. The men from Xing had terror on their faces. _Oh no…_ “Your Majesty—what did you give away? What did you promise, to get them to surrender?”

Yak-shi took a deep breath, then looked Zeno in the eyes. “Ouryuu,” he said. “I promised they wouldn't have to face _you._ ”

* * *

They rode back side by side, ahead of the others. “Ouryuu, I…” The king had begun to speak several times, never getting farther than a few words.

“You knew,” Zeno said, finally.

“I followed you, the last time,” said Yak-shi.

“You—saw.”

“…I saw. Ouryuu, I…thank you.” It was the last reaction Zeno expected. Fear, or disgust, or maybe pity, those would have been normal, for a power like his. But gratitude? “Kouka wouldn’t have come this far without your protection. I’m not my father; I can’t do what he did. I didn’t even realize it, but you were giving me the freedom to build his dream.” He paused. “That’s how it was at first. But, Ouryuu…until I saw, I couldn’t understand why our neighbors resisted my overtures of friendship. But it’s hard to trust an ally who needs nothing from you, isn’t it? It’s thanks to you that Kouka made it this far, but…that’s enough, Ouryuu. You don’t have to go through that anymore.”

“Don’t say ‘go through that’ like it’s a tragedy, Your Majesty,” Zeno said. “This is the power the dragon god gave me. It’s how I was always meant to protect—”

“The king of Xing sends armies here to die,” Yak-shi interrupted. “Did you know that? I don’t know what General Vashar did to displease his king, but this was an execution. Ouryuu, you’re not—you weren’t meant for that.” He glanced back towards their prisoner. “I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted. “But something’s going to change. And as long as you protect us in this way, Ouryuu, Kouka can’t move forward. Surely you can see that.”

_I don’t want Kouka to move forward, I want—_ But what he wanted was already long gone.

“Ah, Your Majesty.” He wiped the dust from the road from his eyes. Dust, that was all it was. “Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, you really became a king.” Yak-shi was right, wasn’t he? “I guess the only one who can’t move forward is me.”


	10. Epilogue

Yak-shi awoke in the hour before dawn, rose from his bed, and hurried to the temple, not knowing what drew him there until he arrived. Yane stood on the steps, a lone figure in the early morning haze. “He’s gone,” said Yak-shi. “Isn’t he?” The priestess nodded, and Yak-shi cursed himself for being too slow. Not just now, but ever since he’d first begun to realize the truth. Keeping secrets for so long felt like a coward’s choice, now. “I wanted to say goodbye,” he said. “I wanted to tell him how I met his brothers, and his brothers’ children…”

Yane shook her head. “He’ll have enough goodbyes,” she said. “I think he’d have left without telling me goodbye, too, except—” She held something in her hands, turning it back and forth between restless fingers. “He gave me this,” she said. It was the medallion Ouryuu always wore. The medallion that had once been Hiryuu’s. “I can’t keep it,” she said. “But it was nice of him, don’t you think? He trusts us, trusts that we can watch over Kouka without him. He really does.”

“And the gods?”

“They never meant for him to stay this long,” said Yane. “But I couldn’t tell him to go.” She didn’t answer what he was really asking. He supposed she couldn’t. “Here,” she said, pressing the medallion into Yak-shi’s hands. “You should take it, for a while. It was your father’s, after all.”

He placed it around his neck, under his robes, feeling the cool metal close to his heart. “You know,” he said, “it’s not as heavy as I thought it would be.”

The priestess smiled. Yak-shi kept his father’s medallion close, but as the day wore on, he barely noticed its presence. By the time night fell, it was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm [fallenwithstyle](fallenwithstyle.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you'd like to come say hi.


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